| Running a Tab |
| Summary: | Madilyn rings in the return to Condition Three, but the Major isn't in the mood to celebrate. |
| Date: | 22 March 2042 AE |
| Related Logs: | None directly, apart from vague allusions. |
| Players: |
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| Colonial Pete's - MV Elpis |
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| Colonial Pete's is the long-awaited successor to Kythera's Aquarian Pete's, though this version is more bar than strip club. Not that there aren't any strippers here, in fact there's even a raised platform complete with pole built just for them. The majority of the room, however, is dominated by mis-matched tables and chairs and a long bar. Lighting is haphazard, the harsh fluorescents that came with the place usually left off in favor of lower lighting from scavenged lamps and even a bit of neon rustled up from somewhere and hung behind the bar. There's a pretty decent sound-system playing a wide variety of music, and a couple of low-tech bar games, like a mini pyramid arena. There are always a few burly-looking guys around to keep an eye on rowdy patrons, and especially to guard the doors to the back rooms, where the stills are kept along with (rumors say) a few private alcoves for those willing to pay extra for one-on-one time with the girls. A large black chalkboard that once adorned Cerberus' Ready Room hangs behind the bar. Scrawled on its surface beneath a crude picture of a steaming bowl are the words 'SOUP OF THE DAY: MOONSHINE.' |
| Post-Holocaust Day: #389 |
Colonial Pete's is doing brisk business today. For the first time in awhile. The near-daily Swarms and restricted drinking regs put a damper on its military clientele. And many of them are making up for lost time, with the return to Condition Three. Herak is at the bar, handing out moonshine liberally, and the sound system plays brisk Caprican pop music while a redheaded stripper dances on the raised platform. The place is well and truly swinging.
"No matter how dire the situations get, there's always a customer base for that kind of business, isn't there?" Madilyn says wryly, seated at the bar and making a motion with the glass she has toward the stripper. Though she doesn't shy away from the sight of the woman, she doesn't drink the form in, either. "The music's the real killer, however. This is Caprican you said? Ugh," the offduty major says to the bartender, turning her nose up a bit at it.
Crabby squawks out, "Yo mama …."
The comment makes Herak look up from his 'shine pouring. Madilyn's comment gets a chuckle and snort. "I prefer Aquarian pop, darlin'. Better rhythm, makes the dancing shakier. But Pete picked the house music tonight. What can I get you? We got moonshine, and I saved up some tomatoes. You can try one of our specialty Bloody Demeter's if you're of a mind to."
The glass that she has is laid down on the bar, and she holds up her other hand and just gives it a little circular motion. "House spirits are fine by me. Tomato isn't going to make this go down any smoother." Another look around the club, before her head returns to the bartender. "Pete's quite the entrepreneur, it would seem. Military and civilian, the place is packed."
"Like you said, darlin', there's always going to be a market for some kinds of business," Herak says, taking the glass and filling it three-quarters full with the house moonshine. "Half a voucher. Been doing the first two drinks for one tonight. Been a damn dry spell since the military couldn't drink regular. I take it you're in the service?" He shows no sort of recognition for Madilyn.
Said voucher is produced from one of the pockets on Madilyn's pants, the whole voucher pressed against the counter and slid on over. There's quite a bit more where that came from, since she's not exactly been using the damn things the whole time they've been distributed. As for the service question, a little pull on the chains surrounding her neck, two clattering dog tags on one and two sparkling rings on the other.
Herak tears the voucher in half, leaving one half on the bar for Madilyn. "Deal's only good tonight, so consider it a two-drink minimum to get the full enjoyment. What, you're gonna make me do homework to get a name?" He shakes his head. "That's cold, darlin'. Ice cold. Nice jewelry, by the by."
Crabby dances side to side and squawks out, "I shot the Sheriff …"
"You might as well keep the whole thing. No sense in saving the half. Just consider me paid up through another drink," she says, hoisting the glass up. As to the name on the tags, it officially says 'Cavanaugh,' but that's changed of course. "If anyone here should be able to read, I'd imagine it would be you," Madilyn comments, before adding, "but they say it's Willows-Cavanaugh. Madilyn. Major. But since I'm not in duty threads…"
"A pre-paid tab? Classy broad," Herak says approvingly, snapping up the rest of the voucher. "Not that I wouldn't prefer it if customers still paid in cubits, but I guess there ain't much to spend them on these days, either. Economy of scale. Or some frak like that. Anyway. Willows-Cavnaugh, Madilyn, Major. Lots of names. Got one you prefer? I'm called Herak. Herak Takao. One of the keepers of the last bar in the worlds, which these days ain't bad work if you can get it."
"Well, now, that's something we share. Might just be that the last marines in the worlds are right here on these Colonial ships, and there's four of us left in charge. Given the nature of the establishment, Madilyn should suffice for now. A break from the responsibilities of command in more than one way." A wan smile pulling on her lips, then a swig, the inhale, the turn at the corners of her lips and the grimace.
"Pleasure to meet, Maddy," Herak says, mangling that invitation into a nickname promptly. He chuckles at her reaction to the drink. "That's the Twenty Forty-One vintage there. As old as the stock gets these days. It's got a body to it. Marine, huh?" He nods. "You in charge of the MPs, then? I see them come through here often enough. They keep the stupid down to a dull roar, least the half of it me and the rest of Pete's guys can't take care of. Much appreciated."
"On paper. But like I tell my own people, I'm mostly just a glorified secretary who has to make a decision every now and then. The last time a big one came up, I think I made the wrong choice. I don't know anymore." The trip to Pete's aside from being a little break, is one of the few trips she's made over to the vessel personally, a thinly-veiled fact-finding mission under the cover of an offduty trip here.
Crabby squawks out, "Down the Hatch!"
"Wrong choice, huh? Sounds like you need to run a longer tab," Herak says with a grin. "I been there, Maddy. Made plenty of wrong choices in my time. You still got all your limbs attached, so I'm banking it couldn't have been that bad. But that's the beauty of this job. Only hard choices I got to make is when to cut a guy off, or when to bust a few heads if a customer gets too handsy with the girls. There're worse ways to get by in life. This lot ain't been so bad to me as some of the others I've drawn."
"That's just the thing. I have my arms and legs because I came up to this post in a time of peace, you know? War games, training exercises, promotions for time in service, that's all well and dandy. It's the rank that keeps me from going into the field. But now the officers that are lucky enough to be at just that perfect rank to get sent into the field are the ones losing limbs and getting shot up. If I make the wrong decision, some might not coem back." She just shakes her head, rubs a temple, and takes another long swig.
Herak tops Madilyn's drink off after her swig, without really waiting until she's drained enough to warrant a refill. He seems to assume she'll more than use her full voucher's worth. "Least you've got some control over where you stand, and how you stand up to it. Feels over here like we're just waiting for everything to blow up again sometimes. During those Swarms you could hear the sirens blare, sometimes feel the ship get frakked around when the toasters hit it, but you just had to wait until it was over. Waiting like that'll drive you nuts. Guess it'd be even worse to wait back home if you knew everything going on out there." He pauses and asks, "You figure they'll lay off us for awhile? Frakking toasters, that is."
"One can hope. The nerves of everyone in this fleet are shot. As for the waiting game, I'm familiar with that too. Any more waiting and they'll have to replace the deck plating in the sechub from where I've worn it through." She plows on, without clarifying the military term. "They - the Cylons, I mean to say - might be capable of relentless assault, but we are not. Frankly, it's a damn good thing this place is tucked away here. Shore leave might be out, but at least folks can get the frak off Cerberus and feel normal for a drink or two."
Crabby squawks out, "Alert Stations! Alert Stations!"
"That's us, Maddy. Supplier of normalcy," Herak cracks with a barked chuckle. "So what happened, anyway? One of your guys lose a limb over on that weirdo toaster ship? We don't get much in the way of news over here, just the rumor mill, but that thing sounds like it was frakking bizarre."
"A few were shot up quite badly. The ship was rigged to blow, boobytrapped. Mines. So, not just bullets, but shrapnel, concussive force, intense sound." A lot of the rest of the info, though, isn't really something to be disseminated through public channels. "There's still a lot of information to be reviewed, but I don't want to pressure folks that are in recovery just yet."
"Mines. Frak." Herak takes a moment to lean on the bar, picturing that, and grimaces. Like he wishes he hadn't. "Say what you will about the Elpis, bucket of bolts with a clanking FTL that she is, she ain't mined. Guess that's as home sweet home as it gets right now. Tell you what. You get me the names of your wounded, they can have a round on the house next time they come over. Least we can do, I figure."
"You'll probably be able to tell them from their bandages." The other comments about the Elpis Madilyn's not going to touch, especially knowing that a very particular someone is likely to have eyes and ears sitting in this establishment at present. "I do hope it's slightly more accomodating than the starboard hangar of Cerberus, however beat up it may be." To that, she holds up her glass, and chokes down as much of what remains as she dares.
"It is that," Herak agrees, when the Starboard hangar is mentioned. "This is. Here, folks can try and stand on their own feet, make their own way. Not as much as I'd like, I'll say that, but it's better. The way I figure it, we're still alive, and better off than we were this time last year. Frak, I was still back on Leonis in that wastehole the toasters turned Kythera into. This is frakking paradise."
Crabby squawks out, "Yo mama …."
"Oh, I can imagine so," she replies, once more motioning toward the stripper who is still quite enthusiastically going at it over there on the platform. The motion is with the glass, which she then pulls to her lips and downs the remaining bit of drink. It clanks down on the counter, and she slides it back to him. "That's enough for me, I think. It's," she begins, while turning to her watch. "About that time. Bus is just about ready to ship back out."
"Sure you don't want one more for the road?" Herak asks, waggling the bottle of moonshine in an enticing sort of way. Though he's half joking around with it. "Well, you ever need a break from pacing, Maddy, I'll keep a stool free for you. Hope your guys get healed up."
"That's all in the hands of the doctors now," she replies, standing, wobbling for just a moment perhaps. But it's just a few deep breaths before she collects herself, puts those dogtags and rings away in the tanktop, and makes for the hatch to get back to Cerberus.
Herak salutes Madilyn as she goes. With two fingers. He ain't no soldier. He watches her walk away before wiping down the bar and moving on to another customer.